An Unexpected Party
by Henry Vyne
Summary: Merlin Holmes shows up at 221B Baker St. two weeks prior to John and Mary's wedding, due to an invitation from Sherlock. He lives with them for a while and John gets to find out more about Sherlock, Merlin, and their relationship. That and the weird Arthurian legend thing he's got going on. Seriously, what?


**All right, this is my first time writing for Sherlock, so I'd really appreciate any feedback on how I wrote John and Sherlock (and of course all the other characters, but I'm specifically on the fence about John). Tips and suggestions for characters from both fandoms as well as writing styles are embraced with open arms.**

**I don't own Merlin or Sherlock.**

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Half past two in the morning and John and Sherlock were still lounging about in the living area, Sherlock lying down of the couch with his palms pressed firmly together, fingertips resting below his chin, and John in his usual chair with his open laptop on the edge of his knees and his head hanging limply to his right. He had nodded off some time ago, and was now snoring lightly, much to Sherlock's chagrin.

Sherlock had become accustomed to noises around him while he was trying to think - some kinds even helped; his violin, talking to his skull (or anyone that happened to be near, for that matter), the ever constant sounds of London traffic, or even (and this was a recent development) the ticking from the clock above the fireplace that John had, also to Sherlock's chagrin, repaired a few weeks ago. Snoring though, had_ always _been something he refused to comply with.

So there he was, yet again rethinking his decision not to throw the nearest cushion at John's face to rid himself of that incessant droning. But, he determined, yet again, that it would take far too much movement to do so. He supposed he could just _tell _him to be quiet, but even speaking seemed to be too much of a bother to Sherlock right now. The only movement he was willing to partake in at the time was rolling his eyes and sighing whenever the snoring became louder before falling back down to the same, monotonous rumbling.

The doorbell suddenly ringing sent John awake with a start, his laptop computer sliding off onto the floor with a thump. Sherlock smiled slightly in amusement as John cursed and picked it up, inspecting it for major damage. He set it on the table before going to answer the door, groaning and stretching his stiff limbs. Sherlock lazily watched him walk away, only moving his eyes to do so. Once he couldn't see him anymore, he went back to watching the hands on the clock slowly tick by, waiting to hear the front door unlatch.

He closed his eyes and imagined the actions in his mind; John looking through the peephole, unbolting the lock, and opening the door to whoever was waiting behind it. At this time, he couldn't care to deduct who it was. His mind, though, didn't seem to care whether Sherlock cared or not, as it forced him to think through who his visitor could be.

It couldn't be Lestrade, as he never used the doorbell. But then again, the doorbell wasn't usually in working order - John must have fixed that as well. It wasn't really calling hours for anyone else, but it really could've been anyone from the police force or just someone with the wrong address. Sherlock simply couldn't bring himself to care, even as he was listening the door being opened.

"Oh, hello!"

Sherlock snapped his eyes open immediately. The pure eagerness in John's tone piqued his curiosity. There wasn't any large amount of surprise in it, so it was safe to presume this visit was expected. There was excitement as well, so probably not Harry or any other acquaintances of John's. Pure interest in the midst of a dull and boorish night got the better of him, so Sherlock allowed himself to turn his head ever so slightly towards the door, just as the guest started speaking.

"Hello, you must be John. I've heard so much about you."

Sherlock whipped his head back up towards the ceiling before this visitor had finished his sentence. He recognized the voice before the first syllable had finished. It was calm and composed, warm and friendly, but distant all at the same time. In spite of himself, Sherlock listened intently as John moved aside from the door to make way for the guest, who by the sound of it was rolling a suitcase behind him.

"I'm Merlin," Sherlock listened to his voice go up the end, as if he was asking a question. "I got your email."

"Yes, yes, of course. Sherlock?"

Sherlock immediately shut his eyes as he heard John's footsteps come nearer.

"Sherlock, your brother's here."

Sherlock swiftly swept his legs onto the floor and stood up, absentmindedly smoothing out the wrinkles in the black jacket he was wearing over his white shirt.

"Merlin," Sherlock greeted nonchalantly in passing on the way to his room.

"Sherlock," came the equally cool response.

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**Should I continue and are they terribly OOC?**

***Because of Bilbo and John Watson, I thought the title was appropriate.**


End file.
